Sizzling desire and office politics don't mix ... do they?
Forensic specialist Stevie Daniels will be day-shift supervisor. She's earned that promotion. But first, her boss has tasked her with digging up dirt on Vin Vasher, the rebellious night-shif...
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Stevie froze, mesmerized by his brilliant blue eyes. Vivid sapphires enticing her to enter a universe where life could be—everything. A quiver whirled in her belly. A thunderbolt pierced her workaholic heart and melted it into a puddle of rapture. In his dazzling gemstones, her soul glimpsed a life full of passion and excitement, a comforting embrace at the end of the day, and the grueling journey of life made lighter when shared by another.
All she had to do was reach out and take it.
A muffled buzzing emanated from the Professor. Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "Vasher." He set his coffee cup on a table. "Yes, Danno."
The spell broken, she turned away and went over to the bulletin board. She scanned sheets and snippets of paper, but couldn't focus on anything other than his voice.
"Okay...No, I'm not at my desk. Text me the address...Sure, aha...For the usual is fine...Most likely within the hour." The cell phone snapped shut. "Homicide in Maryvale. Give me a few minutes to phone Lauren and Ryan and get my kit."
She peered over her shoulder. "Better take a couple of aspirins while you're at it. Sounds like a long night."
"Yeah."
As soon as he left the breakroom, Stevie dumped her coffee into the sink and slam-dunked the cup into the trashcan. With a quick walk to the restroom and at the sink, twisted the cold water on full blast. Unconcerned about ruining her light application of makeup, she splashed water onto her face.
Sure, she might have been guilty of gawking at him over the years. Yes, she conjured up compromising positions and wicked acts, but those were flights of fancy. Lonely night musings. Nothing realistic or advisable. Yet, her lightheadedness was real. The adrenaline pumping through her veins was tangible. And her heart racing faster than a jackrabbit being chased by a hungry coyote was as physical as physical can get.
Stevie turned off the faucet and braced her hands on the vanity top. Drops of water fell from her face as she took a moment to recapture the breath stolen from her by the lab's introvert.
When the queer feeling in her gut had lessened, she snatched a few paper towels and patted her face dry. She threw the moistened towels away and grabbed new ones to blot the ends of her hair that had gotten wet. In the back of her mind, a voice told her to get into work mode and pronto. Because...
Here and now wasn't the time to dwell on his gorgeous eyes, which she could easily become lost in. Nor could she fritter away the night wondering how his perfectly shaped lips would feel pressed upon her skin. And she'd better vanquish, ASAP, the aching urge between her thighs, insisting she grab the reins of his rebellious hair and ride him till exhaustion.
God almighty, get a grip. He's not a conquest. He's a fricking assignment!
After taking a pee, she returned to the breakroom. Good, he's not back yet. Stevie picked up the Styrofoam cup he'd set on the table and secured a flimsy lid to it. Spotting an abandoned pen next to a well-worn newspaper, she picked it up and wrote Prof. V. in cursive script. Pleased with herself, she set the cup down and slipped the pen into her coat pocket, which already held a small flashlight.
